


The Lost Child

by asparagusmama



Series: Oxford and the Doctor [1]
Category: Doctor Who (1963), Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen, Haircuts, Pre-Canon, for both, fully functioning chameleon circuit, short hair is cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:23:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3534425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asparagusmama/pseuds/asparagusmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and Susan arrive in mid sixties Oxford by accident as the TARDIS begins to malfunction. Susan falls in love with the time period, its fashion and hair styles while they find a lost and terrified teenaged girl who witnessed a murder. The Doctor and Susan help her do the right thing and save a second girl from the same fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lost Child

**Author's Note:**

> Slight warning for time and place appropriate language for black and mixed race people and some historically accurate use of racist language in some not so nice people. Also, there is a dead body.

Dusk fell on a warm evening, late into the day. A lone policeman walked down the empty Broad and turned into Catte Street, just as a young man, obviously worst for wear, weaved out from under the Bridge of Sighs, nearly crashing into the hapless Bobbie. They exchanged words and went on their respective ways; both too late to see the strange, sudden, build up of wind, coming from nowhere on the warm, still, humid August night. Following the breeze, picking up litter and swirling it around in a small vortex, came the sound, the strange, electronic, trumpeting noise, a wheezing and groaning, ripping apart space and time, suddenly solidifying with a bump, and then the Sheldonian gained one extra pillar, complete with one more bearded Victorian ‘Roman’ head. The newly appeared head flashed once, and then assumed the grimy, dirty, polluted state as its original brothers. A mysterious door opened within the plinth and a child dressed in a back pinafore dress over a white blouse skipped out, a child of about twelve of thirteen years, or at least, if she had been human, that is what she would have appeared to be. She turned around in a spin, tipping her head back, taking in the golden stone buildings, smudged with coal dust and carbon monoxide smears from homes and traffic. A strange noise startled her and she turned in time to watch a small snub-nosed red van chug past.

“Grandfather! Grandfather!” the girl called. “I think this is Earth this time. Come on see. The buildings are rather like Arcadia and Prydonia at home. Oh do hurry up! You won’t need that scarf. It’s quite warm. Honestly!” She stretched out her arms inside the sudden addition to the Sheldonian and pulled. An older man emerged, with a shock of collar length white hair; a black hat perched on top.

“Yes, yes my child. It is indeed Earth. I was just checking the instruments.” He let go of her hands and put his arm about her shoulders. “Now Susan, my dear, you know you mustn’t just rush out of the Ship like that?”

“TARDIS Grandfather. I’ve called her the TARDIS.”

“Yes, I know that. But my dear girl, please listen. There could be anything outside. At least check for radiation, atmosphere, and a quick glance at the scanner, h’m? What if you had met some form of hostility?”

“Yes, yes, I know all that Grandfather. But look, it’s perfectly safe.”

Two women approached, arms linked. They were dressed in very short skirts, with knee high white leather boots underneath, although still most of their legs managed to be on show. One dress was black and white, in a chessboard pattern, the other a multi coloured riot of swirls. One woman’s hair was piled high upon her head, in a stiff manner, like a hump, but the other young women hand short hair, stylishly and practical and yet feminine, with feathering pointed fronds in the fringe and around the ears. Susan twisted her plait and eyed the short hair speculatively.

The old man inclined his head as they walked past. “Good evening,” he said.

“Hello,” one replied. 

“Lovely evening,” said the other.

“Er, I wonder if you might help us young ladies?”

“We can try,” said one, looking to her friend for support.

“We seem rather lost.”

“Where were you trying to get to?”

“Earth!” Susan said quickly, “the nineteenth century.”

“Hush child. Please ignore Susan; she had a rather active imagination. The train station.”

“Well, you are on the right way, just keep going down the Broad here, keep going at the cross roads into George Street, and then straight over the next cross roads too and you’ll come to Friedswide’s, then you can’t miss it.”

“The station is rather far,” the other young woman added, almost apologetic.

“Thank you so much.”

After the young women were out of hearing, Susan turned on her Grandfather in annoyance. “Why did you make me look stupid? I was asking them!”

“Firstly Susan, it is obviously we are temporally further on that the 1890s we were aiming for, the dress of those young women for a start, then the combustion engine of the vehicle. And you know my dear; you never reveal we are not from their planet in any society Level 4 or below.”

“No, I am sorry Grandfather.”

“That’s all right my child, come on, a short walk will take us to the train station, which not only will tell us where we are, but have newspapers for sale which will tell us when we are.”

“Oh. I didn’t think of that. Did the instruments not tell you Grandfather?”

“They are still rather temperamental.”

“Of course Grandfather.”

*

Susan enjoyed the walk to the Station. Soon they saw many more people, many worst for wear with drink. Girls in mini dresses and boots, young men strutting in jeans and brightly patterned or just brightly coloured shirts or tee shirts. It was all so completely different from when they were last on Earth. She loved the way Earth’s culture was ever changing and dynamic, so different from the frozen formality of home. She was thrilled when the first motorbus went past. Having recently been in Victorian London (where they were trying to get back to, twenty years after they left) she had seen horse drawn omnibuses. Her Grandfather had his handkerchief to his face again; she knew he hated the smell of carbon monoxide, petrol fumes, and coal dust. But she loved it; it was so invigorating, so different from the sterile air of home or inside the Ship. She saw older people too, women in longer dresses and skirts, to the knee, often with a hat or a headscarf knotted under the chin, men in suits and hats, rather like London before, heavy jackets despite the heat. She stopped to pat a dog and talk to the elderly man and woman he was with. Her grandfather huffed his displeasure.

“Can we get a dog?” she asked, as they walked on.

“Don’t be ridiculous child!”

“What about one of those hair cuts? The short hair some of the girls have? They look so practical and cool?”

“I’ll think about it. But if we are to get back to London and check that we’ve dealt with those pirates, won’t short hair stand out?”

“I’ll wear a hat. Or a hairpiece. Oh please Grandfather!”

“I said I’d think about it.”

Susan skipped on ahead and disappeared.

“Susan! Susan! Come back child!”

He found her sitting by the canal. “Isn’t it beautiful? Look the moon is rising over the city!”

“Come back child!” the Doctor called from the bridge. His finely honed senses told him there was something untoward further along the towpath, something which he wanted his granddaughter to have no part. “We are going to the station, h’m?”

 

*

PC Jim Strange was already on over time when the desk sergeant asked him to see the elderly couple. He supposed someone from CID ought to see them, but the disappearance of a teenage girl was always something of a low priority for the first night. He stuck his head round Thursday’s office on his way, just to check, but the DCI was on the phone. He looked for a WPC, but finding none, made two cups of tea and took them into the interview room.

“Mr and Mrs Sheldon? I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. PC Strange. How can I help?”

They were elderly, late sixties, maybe even early seventies. The man twisted his hat in his hands, nervously, the woman had a wet handkerchief in hers, but she was no longer crying. They looked to one another, before the man spoke,

“Our granddaughter, Carol, she hasn’t come home from school.”

“How old is she?” Jim asked, taking out his pen and pad.

“Fourteen.”

Fourteen? Friday night? All the usual platitudes and questions went running though his head. Boyfriend? New group of friends? Was there a band playing she might have wanted to see? A film perhaps?

“She’s such a good, quiet, child,” Mrs Sheldon said, as if she had read it all in his face.

“She has a scholarship. Is planning to go to university. Here, she hopes,” added Mr Sheldon.

Jim sighed and prepared himself for the paperwork and platitudes, hoping she would be back by morning, or Sunday at the latest. They usually were.

 

*

“Oxford! H’m. Yes. Of course. Ha!” muttered the Doctor to himself, as Susan skipped back from the newspaper stand by the entrance to platform 1. “I might have known.”

“It’s 1964 Grandfather. July.”

“Well, that certainly explains the heat,” he replied, sitting down on a bench, pulling off his hat and wiping his forehead with a white handkerchief.

“It is very humid,” agreed Susan mildly.

“Most uncomfortable, m’m?” He fished in one of his many large pockets until he found a handful of coins, which he held out to Susan. “Which ones do you suppose?”

Susan located a half a crown with the head of George V and three shiny sixpences and a penny with the head of the young Queen Elizabeth II from the mixture of currency. “These should be okay Grandfather.”

“In that case, will you please get me a cup of tea, and whatever you want? And Susan, my dear...”

“Yes Grandfather?”

“See if that child is alright?” he lowered his voice. “The one sitting in the corner of the tea rooms, her head lowered. I think she might be crying, and it is very late for a child so young to be alone in a train station.”

Susan looked in the direction her grandfather indicated. She saw a girl of about her age sitting at a table hunched over a coffee cup, her shoulders shaking. She was quite dark skinned, rare for this time and place, Susan guessed, and dressed in a checked cotton school dress and straw hat with a ribbon. A blazer and a leather satchel sat beside her on the floor. She nodded, “Of course.”

 

*

“Dear oh dear,” Fred Thursday said, coming up the towpath and seeing the body. She was young, younger than his Joanie, still at school, dressed in the uniform of a girl from the posh Headington Girls School.

Dr DeBrin stood when he saw the inspector. “Strangled, with bare hands. I’ll be able to tell you more after the post mortem.” He looked white with shock and sadness. But the pathologist was young, and kiddies and teenagers always got to one the way an adult didn’t.

Thursday looked at the skirt, wriggled half way up the legs of the girl. “Interfered with?”

“I’ll know that after the PM too,” DeBrin replied sadly. “I hope not.”

 

*

 

Strange escorted the elderly couple off the station premises with all the promises, reassurances, and platitudes he could manage. It was a sorry business, a missing child. He still hoped she was just stretching her wings a little and would be home, but having heard the type of girl she was, he doubted it. Of course, teenage girls could hide their true natures from their parents, or grandparents. Her mother had died soon after her birth, and her father, an American airmen, had left never knowing he’d got his white English girlfriend in the family way. He supposed a half-caste child in a posh school uniform would stand out so he would alert all beat officers immediately.

He found Brenda and got her to radio everyone contactable constable and asked after her mother, who was poorly. By the time he was ready to clock off the desk sergeant asked him to take a call in CID.

“Where the hell is everyone?”

“On leave or left for the weekend, apart from Thursday and Jakes. They’re out; there’s a young girl been found dead by the canal near Friedswide’s.”

“Oh no. Not a coloured girl, is she? The victim?”

“Not heard that, no. Sure I would have though, it not being the usual... not that murdered school girls is usual either...”

Jim shook his head, sadly. No, he didn’t thing it was either, or girls going missing either. Two schoolgirls, so probably connected. Looked like he wasn’t going to get home tonight.

Just then Brenda came out of her pokey little office used to keep the radio and the main switchboard. “A Mrs Swinton has just called, wanting to report her daughter missing. Should have been home from school hours ago, apparently.”

The desk sergeant sighed, “Best get out to see her you two, and I’ll notify Inspector Thursday.”

 

*

 

“Mind if sit here?” asked Susan, carrying a cup of tea and a ‘frothy coffee’, along with a rather stale and tired looking Chelsea bun.

The girl looked up with swollen brown eyes. She was probably normally quite pretty, Susan decided, but she had obviously been crying her heart out. “Oh. Are you alright?” Susan sat down anyway and produced a little packet of tissues from her pocket and handed them to the girl. She looked at them oddly – as well she might, such packets of tissues were not going to appear in British shops for almost forty years – but she figured out how to open it and took one and gave her nose a good blow.

“Not really. But it’s not something I can talk about. Oh! I don’t know what to do!” and she burst into tears again.

Susan reached across the table and took the girls hands in hers. “My name is Susan. See that man over there, he’s my Grandfather, and he is very good at solving problems and righting wrongs. Honestly, you can trust us.”

The girl looked up and sniffed before wiping her eyes and nose again. “Can I? Can I trust you? I’m so scared. I had thought I’d get a train to London and disappear, but I’ve got no money and it might be just as frightening...”

“Of course you can trust us.” Susan waved over the Doctor.

 

*

 

“Right. So what have we got? Two missing schoolgirls, both from the same school and form, and another, as yet unidentified, murdered, in the uniform of the same school,” Thursday summarised. “Looks like I’m going to have to disturb Crisp on a Friday night, and if we don’t get this sorted pronto, we’re going to get the press breathing down our necks and we’ll be recalling everyone from their summer holidays.” Not that it hadn’t been a relief, after Brenda and Strange had brought in the young mother, alone, her husband worked abroad apparently, prepared for the worse. She couldn’t help them identify the victim though, admitting she didn’t often go to prize givings and the like, didn’t feel comfortable with all those posh parents. Left that to her husband. Fred’s sympathy, however, had wobbled somewhat after he had asked her about the other missing girl, as she had replied at how she wouldn’t let her Debra have anything to do with that ‘darkie girl’. He had considered asking Carol’s grandparents in to see if they recognised the body, but rejected it on the grounds that it would only add, probably unnecessarily, to their anxiety, and they might not know her anyway. He’d wait for first light, when they’d get their diver boys in the canal, see if they could find a schoolbag or handbag in the water, as the search at the scene had proved fruitless.

 

*

 

“Well my dear, you have got yourself into a very frightening pickle, haven’t you?” the Doctor said kindly, patting Carol’s hand. “And what do you intend to do about it, now that’s the question?”

“I... I know what I ought to do, but I’m so scared! Would anyone believe me?”

“Of course they will, my dear child. Your friend... Dawn was it? Do you not think she will be found? And this Debra, do you not think she might be at risk? She witnessed the whole thing, and this young man, he might not have seen you, but he was with Debra.”

“But he’s her boyfriend. I think. Or at least, he might be her boyfriend’s friend. But I thought she might have two boyfriends. It was the way they were with each other. But he wouldn’t hurt her. Would he?”

“M’mm. You’d be surprised child. Susan, buy us all another drink, would you my dear. Now then Carol. You are frightened, of course you are, but you don’t think you were seen. Now, we will all have a nice cup of tea and then Susan and I will walk with you to the police station and you will tell them all you saw and all you know. How does that sound? H’m?” the Doctor said firmly but kindly, patting Carol’s hand all the while.

Carol sighed, and shook a little, but raised her chin slightly, and said, “Yes. You are right. But you will stay with me, won’t you?”

“Of course my dear, of course.”

 

*

 

It was approaching midnight by the time the Doctor, Susan, and Carol arrived at the police station. Susan whispered to her grandfather as they entered, reminding him of how humans liked proper names. He harrumphed his reply in annoyance, but introduced himself as Doctor John Smith, and explained how his granddaughter had befriended young Carol Sheldon, who was lost and alone at the train station, and had witnessed a murder and was very frightened.

Immediately there was a flurry of activity, a uniformed constable called Strange chided Carol and told her that her grandparents were very worried and went immediately to fetch them. A WPC brought tea. Susan loved the way the humans she had encountered all thought a hot cup of tea was the answer to everything. It was obviously beginning to rub off on Grandfather, too. She worried the tannin might even be something of a narcotic to her species, which is why she stuck to coffee. The caffeine gave a pleasant buzz. 

Finally two men in suits arrived, a young DC Jakes and a Detective Inspector, a Mr Fred Thursday, whom Susan trusted immediately and liked immensely. He had a reassuring, gentle, manner but she was sure he could be just as fierce if he needed to, reminding her a little of her Grandfather. Susan watched the men debate, biting her fingernail. She knew Grandfather would be taking it all in, even if he appeared to be fussing over Carol, sugaring her tea for her and patting her hand paternally with reassurance. Carol was gone very pale, a whitish grey under her coffee coloured skin.

“I am, as you will have been informed, a doctor. Carol trusts me, and as long as she is happy to talk to you now, I am happy enough to sit in loco parentis, as it were.”

Thursday nodded, and looked at his young constable. “Very well. Jakes, show Miss Smith the waiting room, perhaps you might find her a biscuit. I’ll take Miss Sheldon’s statement. If we wait for Strange to get back from Marsden we’ll be here all night, and there’s still another girl missing.”

“Debra,” Carol whispered. “Has she not come home?”

“No. But firstly, is this the girl you saw murdered?” Thursday showed Carol the grainy black and white print of the murder victim, taken in situ by the canal and still wet from the dark room.

“Yes. That’s Dawn Asden. She’s in my form. So is Debra. We just wanted to see...”

“See what Miss Sheldon?”

“It’s alright my dear. You just tell the kind policeman what you told Susan and myself and all will be well.”

“Not for Dawn...”

“No, but if you tell what you saw, the police will catch him and protect Debra.”

Carol took a deep breath and began, all the while, Thursday taking notes. 

“Up until last year, Dawn, Debra and I were best friends, right from the First Form. Debra and I were both scholarship girls, and no one... well, they all looked down on us at first. Dawn was different. She’s very clever, cleverer than both of us, even though we passed the exams, and she didn’t need to, her parents are rich. But she’s odd, too. You know, mutters to herself, sometimes makes odd noises. And so sweet.” Here Carol broke off the gulp down a sob. “Was very sweet. Was. It’s so horrible! I keep forgetting I shall never see her...”

“There there my dear. Try not to upset yourself so much,” the Doctor soothed, patting her on the back.

“You’re doing so well Carol. I know this is very hard for you,” Thursday encouraged gently. “Go on.”

“Dawn is... was a boarder. Her parents work abroad I think. Debra has her own different life out of school, and I... well, the truth is, it’s always been hard for me, making friends, fitting in, people are always making comments about me...”

“About you being coloured?” Thursday clarified. “Kids can be so cruel.”

“Adults too,” muttered the Doctor.

Carol sighed and went on. “Anyway, we rubbed along, the odd ducks, and then, this year Debra’s grades fell, and she wanted to be on her own more, then she started skipping school, climbing over the fence. I assumed she had a boyfriend, but Dawn was so worried. It obsessed her more and more. What had happened to Debra, why had she changed her personality, why was she ignoring us, calling us names even at times...?”

“Names?” asked Thursday.

“The usual for me, but much crueller to Dawn, calling her weirdo, mad, dippy, crazy, fruitcake...”

“As I said, kids can be cruel.”

“All week Dawn had been worrying even more. Debra had started to cheek the teachers, and was close to being suspended, even expelled! She had this idea we could follow her, find out who she was seeing, if it might explain her change.”

“And that is what you did?”

“Yes.”

“What happened Carol?”

“First she went to a pub, and met a boy, well, a man, he was about eighteen, nineteen. She had a drink, even though she’s fifteen and was in school uniform.”

“Which pub was this?”

“The Four Candles on George Street.”

“I know it, yes.”

“They kissed and held hands and she had a Campari and soda. Then they went across to the Coffee Bar in the Old Fire Station and drank coffee and danced a bit – you know, to the jukebox. But then they had a fight, they were shouting. Dawn crept closer to hear, but with the music and the crowds, she nearly saw us so we had to come out. A while later she came out alone, and we followed her to the canal, and she walked along the towpath until she came to a barge parked up, or whatever it is you do with boats.”

“Which way was this?”

“Towards Port Meadow.”

“Near where she was found then.”

“Yes. I suppose. I thought I heard them say something about throwing her into the canal. Didn’t they?”

“Some people walking their dog found her on the towpath. There was no barge moored, nor any other boat.”

“Oh? They must have gone off in it. I think it was his. The man who killed Dawn. Debra called out to the man...”

“Did she say a name?”

“Steve, I think. Yes. Steven or Steve. He came out and they talked. Dawn and I had hidden ourselves quite close in some bushes but we could see or hear all of it, but we did see Debra give him some money, lots of money, at least two whole five pound notes, and he gave her a little plastic bag full of tiny blue pills. Amphetamines Dawn called them. She was so angry she went out and called Debra a fool, told her she would tell at school, and her Mum, that she was messing around with drugs and they were destroying her mind, changing her. She said she cared too much to let her ruin her life. I tried to stop her, I did, but... I was scared. The man, Steve, was very angry, turned on Debra, demanded who Dawn was, threatened Dawn, swore a lot, told her to shut up and go away and never tell a soul, but Dawn said something about going to the police and he grabbed her and shook her and shook her and then his hands were around her neck and Debra was screaming at him to stop and suddenly he let go and Dawn fell to the ground, like a limp rag doll. There was no life in her. It was horrible!” Carol put her head in her hands and wept. The Doctor put a gentle arm about her shoulders.

Thursday had left twice while Carol told her story, once to tell Jakes the victim’s name and send him to the school to get her parents’ details and notify her housemother, and secondly to send his men to known cafes, pubs and clubs that had problems with drugs, starting with a lookout for the boyfriend. Now he left a third time to issue a canal search for a barge and see if they had a dealer called Steve who lived on the river. It wasn’t ringing any bells, unfortunately.

Finally, he back with her Grandparents, who threw their arms about her, her Grandmother weeping, her Grandfather trying not too. Once in their arms Carol too burst into tears.

“We’ll get you home in a panda car,” Thursday said, “and I’ll put a constable on your street, just until we’ve caught him, as a precaution. We’ll be in touch, as we’ll need Carol to identify the killer, and this boyfriend we spoke of. If it’s all right, I’d like to send the identity artist we use to see Carol as soon as possible, still in the early hours of this morning, perhaps. Would that be acceptable?”

“Of course. Anything our granddaughter can do to help, Inspector. I doubt we’ll sleep much, too much upset for one day.”

“Oh, my brave, brave girl,” Mrs Sheldon said, holding Carol’s hand.

“Thank you so much for finding our girl Inspector.”

“It’s Doctor John Smith you must thank, and his granddaughter. If they hadn’t been so public spirited and ignored a crying child, alone, as everyone else must have done...”

“No trouble, no trouble at all,” the Doctor blustered.

“And now you’ve missed your train, what will you do?” Mrs Sheldon asked, concerned.

“We shall be fine, my good woman. You just get your granddaughter to bed now.”

 

* 

 

“Well now, how can we thank you? And you’ve missed your train,” Thursday said.

“No matter, no matter,” the Doctor replied.

“The only bed we can offer is in one of the cells, and that is hardly appropriate for you granddaughter.”

“Or me, h’m? At least, I hope so. Will you find him, the killer?”

“I hope so. If we find the boyfriend, he might talk. After all, he might have an underage girlfriend and send her to buy illegal drugs, but he’ll probably draw the line at murder, if he has any feeling for Debra, he’ll be concerned for her too. This is quite urgent, for who knows what he’ll do with Debra now? If you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. You and Susan are quite welcome to remain in the waiting room until the morning, it’s slightly more comfortable than the train station.”

 

*

 

The Doctor joined Susan in the waiting room and picked up a copy of The Oxford Times to read. Susan had found some paper and was doodling, the Oxford skyline mostly. She was obviously taken with the buildings. He must bring her back here, perhaps 300 or so years back, when the buildings were newer and had no greasy patina of pollution staining their golden hue. The Woman Police Constable came out with a tea for him and warm milk for Susan, with a plate of toast and tea.

“Most thoughtful constable,” the Doctor said, smiling, “I expect you have much to do, with this investigation.”

“Not much, no. We’re not really allowed to do much in the way of proper policing. Filing, making tea, sympathy to the victims, that sort of thing. I did get some smashing descriptions of the boyfriend and the murderer from young Carol Sheldon though. Mr Thursday was very pleased with me,” Brenda blushed a little, two pink spots colouring her cheeks.

“I’m sure you have the makings of a fine police detective, you just need to show them, work twice as hard if need be,” the Doctor said, ignoring her silly crush on a married man. He did feel uncomfortable at times with all this patriarchy. Susan loved the nineteenth and twentieth century, but if he was to give in to her demands of a stay in one place, as Susan asked for more and more, he would choose somewhere further in Earth’s future, when all this sexism had been got rid of. He didn’t want his granddaughter seen as somehow inferior. How preposterous!

“Thank you, but it’s not so simple, is it?”

“Isn’t it?” the Doctor asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Well...”

“My dear young woman, you are more than capable of being a proper policewoman, you just need to believe in yourself. Did the Suffragettes decide they weren’t worthy of the vote?”

Brenda stood there, her mouth opening and closing a little like a goldfish, and looked like she was struggling with a reply, but then she was called into CID by DC Jakes to discuss more the identities of the two men. The Doctor winked at her.

“You can’t change everything Grandfather,” Susan said sleepily. “I know it seems unfair, but things are so different at home. We have looms, gender simply is an appearance, but here, woman give birth,” Susan shuddered slightly, “so there is a biological difference.”

“A biological difference produces more melatonin in some humans that others, depending on the heat of their point of origin, but you wouldn’t justify the mistreatment of one group to another?”

“Of course not Grandfather.”

“Well now, that young woman, many young women, could contribute to their culture a lot more if it wasn’t assumed they had to give everything up to look after the children.”

“Didn’t you?”

“For a while. But it doesn’t matter, at home, does it now? But it was incredibly boring. More boring than work!”

“Or the Academy?”

“Oh, Susan, you’re so young. Don’t you remember; everything is so dull and predictable at home? You would have hated the Academy. It’s why I took you away.”

“But I would like to go to school,” Susan said, around a yawn. “For a little bit. Could we stay here? Just for a year or two. I could go to school with Carol.”

“Susan, my dear, why would you want to go to school here? What could they possibly teach you?”

“I just want to be in one place, make friends, be ordinary for a while,” Susan said, before yawning hugely. She put her head on her grandfather’s shoulder. “So sleepy,” she muttered.

Susan was young, and needed far, far more sleep that an adult. As she approached puberty she would need less and less, of course. The Doctor could feel her fighting sleep, so he gently pushed his forefinger to her forehead and sent a gentle telepathic instruction and Susan was out in seconds. He didn’t like doing it now she was much older, of course, natural sleep was far better, but all this chatter about settling down and stay to go to a primitive human school, to say nothing of dogs and hair cuts. Really. What was getting into the child?

 

*

The Doctor too, dozed for an hour or more. When he awoke it was to Inspector Thursday standing over him with a cup of tea.

“First train to London leaves in half an hour. I’ve arranged a panda car to take you both to the station. I thought you’d like to know; we picked up a Steven Harrington a couple of hours ago. Debra was locked up down below in the barge. He’s already confessed, he’s rattled, guilt ridden, and coming down from whatever high he was on. He’s known to us further up the canal, in Banbury and Birmingham, small time dealer. He’s been charged and is up before the magistrate this morning. If you’d not found young Carol, it would have taken us much longer to get this wrapped up, so thank you.”

“What about the young girl? Debra, was it?”

“We’ve given her a stern warning about the dangers of drugs and how we could have charged her both as an accessory to murder and to possession, but she’s had a terrible fright, and hopefully this will put her back on the straight and narrow. Her friend was murdered because of her actions, she will have to live with that for the rest of her life.”

“Poor child.”

“As you say. Poor kid.”

 

*

 

Once the panda car had disappeared from sight, the Doctor and Susan began their walk back to he city centre of Oxford. The sun had just risen, shining on the yellow buildings. It really was quite beautiful, the Doctor had to concede. They found a cafe open early and had two proper English breakfasts, all the while Susan continued to put forward her arguments for stopping and for her attending a human school. It seemed she had been thinking on it for some while, and meeting Carol had been the final piece of the puzzle. She also seemed to have fallen in love with this time period. The Doctor sighed, casting around for a change of subject. He glanced up at the young waitress, serving some workmen at the next table.

“Do you still want one of those silly short hair styles?”

“Oh Grandfather! Have you decided! Will you let me?”

“Very well, but we can’t pop back to the 1960s on Earth every time it grows you know.”

“Once the TARDIS sees the style she will be able to keep it in shape, you know that the machine to cut hair will be controlled by the Ship!”

“Very well. Fine. Yes. You will look very grown up though.”

Susan twisted one of her annoying plaits. “I’m not a little girl anymore Grandfather.”

The Doctor sighed. “No child, you’re not.”

Susan smiled at him, an enchanting smile that reminded him suddenly of her Grandpapa. He shook off the memory.

“Thank you Grandfather,” she said.

After breakfast, they went for a walk in Christchurch Meadow, Susan chatting all the while, until it was opening time, and, true to his word, they found a fashionable hair-dressers and Susan pointed to a photograph of a model with exactly the style she had wanted when she first saw it on the student out for a drink with her friend. She couldn’t stop smiling all the way back to the TARDIS.

 

*

 

A group of elderly American tourists were being shown around the colleges and fine buildings. One couple had brought their grandson, eight years old and bored out of his mind. While the guide was droning on about the Sheldonian and other boring stuff, he looked around. One of the statues of heads began to flash blue and then there was a weird, loud, trumpeting sound, like a thousand electronic elephants. The wind picked up too, blowing dust and rubbish about his legs. Then, with a final flash of the head and a bang, one of the pillars and heads vanished. He looked to the grown ups but no one seemed to have noticed. He kept quiet, as he knew that the grown-ups would never believe him. It had to be magic. He had read Alice in Wonderland and was working his way through the Narnia books. Oxford really was a magical place just like the stories. He smiled for the rest of the day.


End file.
